


Viva La Vie Boheme

by chrisqzs



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Rent - Larson
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Signing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisqzs/pseuds/chrisqzs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the Amis are /such/ good friends, they decide to go out for a night at this really nice bar after things did't run too smoothly when Musichetta came out to her parents about her poly-amorous relationship with Joly and Bossuet. Unfortunately, Musichetta's parents had the same idea. In order to make sure their night is not ruined by the parental intrusion, the group of friends decides to give one final "up your's" to the older couple, and Enjolras believes everyone has finally gone insane.</p>
<p>Would you believe Grantaire really isn't that drunk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viva La Vie Boheme

**Author's Note:**

> I did a thing...
> 
> No really, when I was listening to La Vie Boheme, I thought one of the verses was "ABC" instead of "8BC" (so I thought they were referencing Les Amis) and this idea popped into my noggin.

They all sat around their rather large table in the Musain, supporting five different conversations about nothing in particular. Enjolras let out a rather loud and obnoxious sigh. Combeferre looked over at his annoyed friend and playfully punched his shoulder.

“Come on, Enj, ‘Chetta’s been having a bad time, we’re all here to cheer her up, remember?” Combeferre reminded him. Enjolras shrugged and crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. Combeferre was right, he knew, Musichetta last week had come out and told her parents (much to her reluctance) about her relationship with Joly and Bossuet and, well, things didn’t turn out too well.

As in Musichetta had been disowned on the spot. 

It had shaken her up, considering her parents had forcibly instilled into her that family was family, and should never be rejected.

Hypocrites.

Enjolras glanced over the table, resting his eyes on the girl this get together was instigated by: Musichetta. She had been in the middle of telling Bahroel and Jehan a rather riveting tale when the café bell rang, signaling the entrance of new customers. Joly glanced over at the door, and froze for a moment before very not subtly nudging his significant others. Musichetta, still laughing at her conversation, turned first, and when her eyes meet the new patrons, the look on her face could have made any other human being turn to ice.

Except Enjolras, obviously.

One by one the rest of their group looked over at the strangers, and fell silent. Even Courfeyrac and Grantaire had, for once, shut their mouths at the sight, which only slightly annoyed Enjolras, considering he could not see the door.

“Stupid pole,” he muttered. Combeferre elbowed him none too gently in the ribs.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

“But-” 

“No.”

The new patrons walked into the main dining room of the Musain, and Enjolras had to hold back a gasp.

“Is that?”

“Yes, Enj, now please, shut up.”

Joly and Bossuet had before mentioned that Musichetta looked like her mother, but Enjolras couldn’t even imagine this close of a replica, they had the same hair (except their ‘Chetta had grown hers out longer), the same eyes, same face (with less wrinkles), same blood-freezing glare sent towards each other. It was hard to believe that people could look that much alike without being twins. The man, who Enjolras could only assume was Musichetta’s father, looked around for an empty table, and after only finding one right next to his daughter, called over the manager.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you happen to have any other empty tables?” he asked. The manager shook her head apologetically (though Enjolras could see a smug glint in the woman’s eye, and was reminded that she and ‘Chetta used to work together in high school).

“Sorry, sir, that is the only free table.” She said, gesturing. Musichetta’s father sighed and turned to his wife, ushering her over to the table. They sat down, muttering quite audibly something about boheme as their waitress handed them both menus. Musichetta still hadn’t said a word since her (former) parents walked in, and it looked like her night to relax and forget about her family issues was ruined.

That is, until Grantaire whispered in something in her ear. She laughed and whispered, “do it” to him. Enjolras could feel his Grantaire is about to fuck something up senses tingling and shot their fairly drunk friend a look, which Grantaire swiftly ignored as he stood up on his chair and began to sing- well more like belt- off key:

“Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes,” he paused, looking around the room to make sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing, “Here she lies, no one knew her worth: the late great daughter of Mother Earth. On these nights when we celebrate the birth in that little town of Bethlehem we raise our glass, you bet your ass to... La Vie Boheme.” He sang, lifting up his glass of cheap wine, spilling a little on Bossuet by accident.

Enjolras scoffed at his drunken friend’s antics. It wasn’t even Christmas, dumbass he thought, but soon realized that the rest of their table had joined in, chanting “La Vie Boheme.”

Grantaire met Enjolras’ eye for a moment and winked before continuing: “To days of inspiration, playing hookey, making something out of nothing, the need to express to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane, going mad.” As he sang the last word, he climbed onto the table and yanked Musichetta up into his now empty chair.

She smiled evilly at her ex-parents and raised her bottle of beer up, “To loving tension, no pension to more than one dimension, to starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension, not to mention of course, hating dear old mom and dad.” She stumbled a little as Grantaire pulled her up onto the table, almost knocking Combeferre’s drink over in the process. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes, and to his surprise, Jehan popped up to stand on his chair. He too raised his cup as a toast (except he was only drinking apple juice) and continued on. “”To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits. To fruits, to no absolutes!”

“To Absolute!” Courfeyrac joined in, sharing a chair with Jehan. “To choice, to the village voice. To any passing fad.” 

Courfeyrac wrapped one arm around Jehan’s waist and with the other raised up his glass (which Enjolras was sure was filled with Vodka) and both he and Jehan sang together, “To being an us for once, instead of a them!”

“La Vie Boheme!” the four sang together after Jehan and Courf were pulled up to the table.

Musichetta’s father had looked around at the rest of the table, expecting them all to make a spectacle like Grantaire and the others, but was quite… distracted… by Cosette and Eponine, who just so happened to be making out next to Feuilly. He very obnoxiously cleared his throat until one of the two girls noticed. Cosette looked up from her girlfriend and smiled innocently.

“Hey mister she’s my sister.” she said, laughing as their waiter came up to the table.

He began to list off quickly the orders, tapping each person on the head as he read theirs “So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad, three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter, and one pasta, with meatless balls-”

“Ew.” Musichetta said from the table, looking down at Enjolras. He felt his face grow red.

“It tastes the same,” Enjolras muttered, which normally isn’t like him.

“If you close your eyes.” Grantaire added, winking again at Enjolras.

“- and thirteen orders of fries.” The waiter interrupted. “Is that it here?”

“Wine and beer!” Combeferre added, earning a disappointed look from Enjolras as he stood up on his chair. Then Jehan and Courfeyrac raised their glasses again and began to sing, altering between verses:

“To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries.”

“To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese.”

“To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo.”

“To wuevos rancheros, and Maya Angelo.”

Bahroel hopped up: “Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion.”

Feuilly stood on the opposite end of the table and added: “creation, vacation-“

“Mucho masturbation” Combeferre added on a whim, and turned almost purple after a moment.

Enjolras couldn’t believe what was going on. 

“Compassion, to fashion, to passion, when it's new” Jehan sang, louder than really necessary.

“To Sontag.” Cosette added, her voice being the only one that really sounded like singing.

“To Sondheim.” Eponine responded to her girlfriend, and they clinked bottles of beer.

Musichetta pulled Joly and Bossuet up onto the table and they held onto each other as they almost yelled, “to anything taboo.”

“Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham and Cage” Marius belted out while being lifted off of his chair by Bahroel.

“Lenny Bruce,” Grantaire sang, pulling Enjolras up from his seat with some help from Combeferre (the traitor).

“Langston Hughes” he begrudgingly added in a monotonous voice. Grantaire threw a friendly arm around him and shoved a bottle in his hand, or at least tried.

“To the stage!” Cosette cheered, saluting Feuilly, who, Enjolras remembered, was working as the stage manager in the same theater performance she was in.

Jehan began to drunkenly cuddle Courfeyrac while the two still stood on the table, “to Uta” he purred.

“To Buddah,” Courfeyrac almost purred back, almost being the key word considering he was still talking five notches louder than a conventional cell phone conversation.

“Pablo Neruda, too.” Eponine added, forcing herself between the two boys. 

Enjolras pulled himself away from their resident drunk and jumped off the table and tried to sit back down, but was pulled back up by Combeferre (Enjolras swears to God, if Combeferre doesn’t stop he will remember that Enjolras is a black belt as soon as they get back to their flat).

“Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow to blow off Auntie Em.” Joly and Bossuet sang, followed by Musichetta, for emphasis, making a ppshhhhhh sound while making a blow-up motion with her hands.

“La vie Boheme!” Everyone but Enjolras cheered. 

Not just Enjolras, he realized, neither Cosette nor Eponine were singing- belting. They were too busy sucking each other’s face again.

“Sisters?” Musichetta’s father exclaimed, noticing the two girls.

“We’re close.” Eponine said, grabbing Cosette’s ass.

“Brothers!” Jehan and Courfeyrac chimed in over the gasps from Musichetta’s mother.

Bahroel and Bossuet smiled at each other and raised their glasses, “bisexuals, trisexuals, Homo Sapiens, carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee Wee Herman.”

Feuilly, Grantaire, and Jehan all raised their glasses and sang out in alternating verses:

“German wine”

“Turpentine”

“Gertrude Stein”

“Antonioni”

“Bertolucci”

“Kurosawa”

And then they all chimed in together: “Carmina Burana”

Everyone else raised their glasses (except for Enjolras, of course, he didn’t want to be foolish), and continued to sing “To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy, Vaclav Havel- The Sex Pistols, ABC”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and tried to get down again, but was grabbed by Cosette, who smiled at him and chimed, “To no shame- never playing the fame game.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at how delicate and beautiful Cosette’s voice was- even drunk.

His smile was short lived, though, when Grantaire came up from behind the two and yelled (an inch and a half from Enjolras’s ear), “To marijuana!” 

Enjolras almost jumped a foot in the air when he felt Grantaire grab his ass. He looked over at the drunk with a glare that could freeze ice, but all Grantaire did was smile and wink before sauntering off to the other end of the table.

 

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta- who had a very malicious glare aimed at her parents- wrapped their arms around each other. “To sodomy: it's between God and me. To S & M.” They sang, pulling off rather… suggestive… positions (enough to make Enjolras turn pink).

“Waiter! Waiter! Waiter!” Musichetta’s father called, asking for a check when the waiter eventually arrived. They paid their meager bill, considering they only really ordered drinks, and left, earning the finger from Musichetta as they walked out the door. 

Everyone cheered after the little bell above the door stopped ringing, And Courfeyrac raised his glass again and, looking at Eponine, shouted “To dance!”

It only took a moment for Eponine to respond, yelling back (with no attempt at actually singing) as performed an impromptu, mildly suggestive dance, “No way to make a living, masochism, pain, perfection, muscle spasm, chiropractors, short careers, eating disorders!”

Grantaire turned around to face Courfeyrac and raised his glass: “to film!”

Courfeyrac was ready, and responded: “adventure, tedium, no family, boring  
locations, dark rooms, perfect faces, egos, money, hollywood and sleaze!”

Jehan snaked around back to Courfeyrac and jumped up to rest on his waist, raising his glass “To music!”

Cosette didn’t realize that the drunk poet was referring to her, so took a second before singing- actually singing- “food of love, emotion, mathematics, isolation, rhythm, feeling, power, harmony, and heavy competition!” She then turned to face Enjolras and raised her glass towards him. “To anarchy!”

He shook his head at first, but Combeferre put an arm around him and smiled. So, begrudgingly, Enjolras joined with his friend: “revolution, justice, screaming for  
solutions, forcing changes, risk, and danger making noise and making pleas.” Against all his efforts, Enjolras cracked a smile, and everyone cheered. Courfeyrac and Jehan, still in the same embrace as before, clinked their glasses and yelled above everyone.

“To faggots, lezzies, dykes, cross dressers too”

“To me!” Eponine yelled, jumping up above everyone and accidentally spilling her beer.

“To Enj,” Grantaire yelled, winking at the man.

Enjolras once again turned pink.

Feuilly took pity on his friend (who obviously didn’t want to be put on the spot like this) and began strutting- yes strutting- around the table, tapping on people’s heads and shoulders, singing, “to you, and you and you, you and you. To people living with, living with, living with: not dying from disease!”

Bahroel looped an arm around Musichetta’s shoulders, and together they sang, “let he among us without sin be the first to condemn,” and everyone chorused back:

“La vie Boheme! La vie Boheme! La vie Boheme!”

People continued to sing the phrase over and over, and Grantaire walked over and hugged Enjolras as he yelled above everyone, his voice slurred: “anyone out of the mainstream. Is anyone in the mainstream?”

Joly grabbed onto Bossuet and Musichetta and yelled out, “anyone alive with a sex drive!”

“Tear down the wall,” Eponine yelled back, “aren’t we all?”

Courfeyrac finally put down Jehan and put his arm around Combeferre: “the opposite of war isn’t peace!”

Jehan walked around to Combeferre’s other side and wrapped an arm around him as well: “it’s creation.”

Everyone jeered the two on and Enjolras, for the hell of it, yelled: “La vie Boheme!”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, staring at Enjolras until he raised one of the stray bottle of beer which hadn’t been knocked over in the excitement. Everyone, including Enjolras this time, smiled and sang “Viva la vie Boheme!”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yeah, sorry it has a cheesy ending, but whatever.
> 
> I may write one where Grantaire discovers the song "Alcohol", whadaya think?


End file.
